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My husband,Yves Gordon, got a diamond necklace at an auction. It was my birthday. The next day, I saw another woman wearing that necklace. She was Joyce Cherny, my husband's new sales director. That woman posted a dozen shorts on TikTok to show off her necklace.

I commented, 'Nice necklace, but the outfit doesn't match.'

Half an hour later, Yves called me. He berated, "I bought Joyce that necklace! She deserves it! She doesn't need you mocking her for it!"

If this was the old me, I'd have stormed up to the company and started a fight with Yves. I'd fight that woman who tried to steal my husband away from me. Now? Now, I was just exhausted. Forget anger; I was utterly apathetic to it all.

I hung up, and that angered Yves more. He marched back home and saw me arranging my flowers. He was enraged and speechless.

Without looking up, I said, "You're early. No overtime today?"

My calm response stunned him. Yves asked coldly, "What do you think? Your comment made Joyce cry. What were you thinking, Tiffany Season? Do you have any idea how big a deal Joyce snagged for us?"

"Nope. I just wanted her to stay professional at work. A mismatch between accessories and clothing makes for a bad company image."

Yves was stunned for a moment. He was about to say something, but the air was filled with the sound of something snipping. I snipped off the superfluous branches and arranged the remaining flowers in specific angles. It looked good.

I put my scissors down, cleaned up the trash, and looked at Yves. "Anything else?"

"N-No." He then realized why he came back. It was not to negotiate. He came after me. "I specifically hired Joyce. You'd better watch your tongue around her."

"Yeah, yeah," I said curtly and put the flowers on the table in the living room. I fiddled with it until I liked how it looked, then I started binge-watching my shows.

My overly calm behavior left Yves a little helpless. "Err, I'll get you another gift. A belated birthday present."

"No. I'm not a child anymore. Just get back to work." I looked at him calmly while he seemed stupefied. In the end, he went into his study.

I sneered. We'd been married for seven years, and we were still annoyed at each other. Even without Joyce, he'd find another mistress sooner or later.

I've dealt with so many of his mistresses over the years. At first, I was furious, hysterical, and a banshee. Now, I was as calm as stagnant water. I was exhausted. I took stock of what I had and told my lawyer to draft up the papers.

I'd just printed the papers when Yves hurried out on a call. He only came back in the dead of the night, reeking of perfume.

I'd finished binge-watching my shows and was about to sleep. Yves frowned. I changed into my PJs and went to bed, much to his surprise. "Is something wrong with you, Tiffany?"

I looked at him, confused.

He said solemnly, "Why didn't you call me? Why didn't you ask where I was?"

"Because there was no need for that. You must have your reason for going out."

He had nothing to say to that, and he scratched his head. "Are you hiding something from me?"

"No, it's just in your head. Good night." I was sleepy. The binge-watching left me wanting to sleep.

Yves couldn't prolong the conversation, so he went to the bathroom. I was already asleep when he came back. When I woke up, I saw a box on the bedside. There was a note on it. 'Happy Birthday,' it read.

I chuckled and opened it up. A red key holder. Heh, it's just a free gift after a shopping spree. I tossed it into the drawer and took out the papers. I thought I should change some of the details.

Yves and I had been together for ten years and married for seven. I knew him like the back of my hand. He was a cruel, heartless bastard. After all, he cared more about his army of mistresses than me.

Chapter 2 Challenge

I had made up my mind to bow out and let Yves have his fun. He could elope with Joyce for all I cared. Once I was done changing the details, I went to the salon to get my hair done, then a whole skincare routine. No point being frugal for a man if he would only spend the money on another woman.

That necklace cost about 450 grand. If I were a betting woman, I'd say this key holder was a little souvenir for Joyce as well, but he decided to show some generosity to me. I'd respond in kind. He wanted freedom? He could have it.

Once I had my hair done and my skin tended to, I picked up the papers and went to Yves' company. The receptionist noticed me, and her eyes lit up. "Hi, Mrs. Gordon!"

"Hi. Is your boss in today?"

"Yes. Mr. Gordon had a meeting this morning."

I nodded and took the elevator. Back when Yves and I got married, I Venmoed all his employees a handsome amount of money. So, I knew for a fact that they recognized me.

I got out on the sixteenth floor, my heels clacking. Yves' assistant greeted me. "Hey, Joyce."

"Where's Yves?"

"In his office, but Ms. Cherny's there too." He huddled closer. "Might not be the best time to see him."

I smiled. "It's the other way around. In fact, it's the best time to see him. I brought him lunch."

Yves' assistant looked at the bento box in my hand, stunned. I ignored him and made a beeline for Yves' office.

I opened the door and was greeted by a cloying voice, "Had a fight with Tiffany again? She has too much time on her hands. Independence is important for women. Housewives always let their thoughts get the better of them because they don't have anything better to do."

"She's not as capable as you are, Joyce. Thanks for getting us that Westmore deal. When the money comes through, you're getting a raise."

"Really? I don't need a raise. Money means nothing to me. I just want to be by your side."

I chuckled, and the couple inside noticed. I dropped the act and went inside. Joyce was on Yves' lap, her arms around his neck. If I hadn't heard the conversation, I'd think they were going to screw right there and then.

Yves panicked and pushed Joyce aside. Joyce dusted herself off and smirked at me. "Hey, knock before you come in. Where's security? We've got a trespasser here!"

She acted like she owned the place. Yves patted her shoulder. "That's my wife. Tiffany."

Joyce feigned surprise. "Oh, that's your wife? She's so different from the other women."

The sarcasm, unfortunately, did not go over my head. Yves looked at me, stunned. Of course, I looked beautiful. I had my hair done and styled myself meticulously. My accessories made me stand out even more.

"What brings you here?" Yves snapped out of his trance.

"Are you here to check on him, Tiffany? We were talking about the Westmore deal. I don't think you'd understand that."

I smiled, unfazed. "Go on, you guys. I made some soup, and I thought Yves would like it. I'll be going soon." I placed the thermos on the table and was about to leave, but Yves called out to me.

"Wait. Why don't we have lunch together?"

I looked at Joyce. There was disdain and challenge in her gaze, as if she thought I was nothing but a leech who fed off my husband. Still, I wanted to see what she was up to. Therefore, I agreed to the proposal.

"Fine. Where are we going?"

Chapter 3 Declaration

Joyce answered, "Let's go to the restaurant right across the street. Good food there. It's Mr. Gordon's and my usual haunt."

She blatantly told me how close she was to my husband. If she wanted to invite trouble, who was I to interfere, right? I nodded. Yves looked a little unnerved seeing me so calm. In the end, he even offered to take my bag.

I wrapped my arm around his arm and walked out together. Before we left, I said, "Close the door on the way out, Ms. Cherny."

Although Joyce was disgruntled, she closed the door anyway. She looked like a little minion on our payroll. I laughed. Yves had been incessantly humiliating me, even out in public, but I'd been acting too strangely lately. It seemed that my behavior had finally spooked him.

He had no idea what to do or how to react. So, he could only feign ignorance as he allowed me to hold his arm.

The assistant stared at us with wide eyes. Every time I came, it was either to catch Yves in his affair or start a fight. I'd never acted calmly before. Joyce came out smiling, and we went into the elevator. I heard smatterings of whispers behind us.

I didn't know the specifics, but I could guess the gist of it. They were probably wondering why I had a sudden change. Perhaps I was planning to reclaim Yves. Nah. This bastard had a change of heart. He could never be won back.

I'd rather take everything that was rightfully mine and leave him behind. Joyce came up to us. "My treat, Yves. It's my first time seeing Tiffany, after all." She looked at me, and I smiled.

"Thanks."

Yves looked like he'd seen a ghost. He couldn't believe I was the same woman he married. We went to the restaurant and took our seats. Yves made his order, and when we were served, he pushed the chili crab over to me. "Their chili crab's nice."

I smiled at him silently. Yves was stunned, and then, a while later, he remembered that I was allergic to seafood. Chili crab was far from my favorite food. He got it wrong. Joyce looked smug.

"I love chili crab, Yves. Don't mind if I do, Tiffany."

"Go ahead." I summoned the waiter and ordered myself some greens. Only then did I dig in.

Yves realized he'd gone too far this time. Thus, he tried to salvage the situation. "I've been busy lately, but I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"Really?" I extended my phone to him. "You can make it up to me right now." I showed him my E-bank app, and Yves was stunned. After a beat, he curled his lips to an awkward smile.

Before he could say anything, Joyce chuckled. "You're so lucky you married Yves. You can just ask him for cash, and he'll give you anything. On the other hand, I have to work hard. Women have to be independent, you know."

I nodded. "When I married Yves, he told me I was overworking myself, so he wanted me to take a break while he made the money for me. He kept his promise for years. Yes, independence is nice, but a good brain is better. It's great if you can make a man willingly work himself to the bone for you."

Yves' past lies were exposed, and he looked embarrassed and had nothing to say to that. So, he could only smile awkwardly.

Joyce had a look of disdain on her face. "Yves has worked hard. He deserves some good food."

She kept piling up food on Yves' plate. I ignored him. We were here for lunch, so eating was the most important affair here. Only then could I have the strength to deal with our divorce. Frankly, I was already immune to Joyce's sarcasm.

After I was done with my meal, I said, "Soup aside, there's something else I want to tell you."

"What is it?"

I wiped my hands clean and calmly declared, "I want a divorce, Yves."

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